


the darkness of a dying star

by ProwlingThunder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Father & Daughter - Freeform, Force Bonds (Star Wars), Gen, One Angry Sith Papa, Sith Master & Apprentice Relationship(s), The Force (Star Wars) - Freeform, Unusual Prison Rescue, Unusual Prison Rescue Attempt, imprisoned character, parent & child - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: Rama Eurynome can feel in his bonds, the soul-deep cry of his daughter. If he were a foolish person, or perhaps a Jedi, he might go in lightsaber ablaze.Luckily, he's a Sith lord.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	the darkness of a dying star

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, folks, this is an au shortfic based off an rp I did with some friends... as in, the rp did not go this way but it spawned several fics anyway.  
> That said, this is in no way canon to Eurynome's storyline.

It was-- an echo of a cry, not a cry itself, rippling through the Force with enough power to jolt him awake. Muffled instead of clear-cut, echoing and bouncing disjointed as if off canyon walls. But Eurynome would have had to be someone else, someone thoughtless and malicious, _not_ to recognize the call of his own blood, the bond thick and coiled and layered with an extra level of attachment, of protection, from Master to Apprentice.

_My daughter._

Another wordless cry, shrieking through the universe. He shoved himself out of the bench seat and set his teeth, _listening_ even as he moved. Every step was precise and calm and coiled, because it wouldn’t due for a Sith lord to be seen moving with haste, but he made his way down the hall with dedicated steps until he was before his own-- empty-- quarters. He needed clothes; clean and black, the cut sharp and the material thick-woven, better than the dusty deep-browns he wore. A quick trip through the ‘fresher, to run cool water through his hair and fingertips, scrub dirt off his face and throat.

A cloak, all excess material and blacker than the darkness of a dying star, made to trail and _menace._

His lightsaber, luminous gold.

And a power coupling, to make the _Corsair_ do its job.

_Daddy!!_

When he had been here last, just a few days ago, Eurynome had been able to see the towering city-scape of Coruscant through Orpheus’ eyes, a scholar’s eyes. Historian, anthropologist, archaeologist. At least for a few moments, until the root cause of why he had been here had distracted his attention, and then the Force had again sidetracked him from _that._

He had planned to return again, perhaps in a few months, and try his hand at the lost archives again. But it seemed that was not to be so, for here he was not a week later. The _Corsair_ was registered to an Inquisitor, _Third Brother,_ and that told him all about the hungry little dark star he had left with the others. With luck, he had scared him enough that nothing would be attempted. The datapad and files therein had been a source of entertainment during the trip, up to and including the absolutely ancient security footage. He considered, briefly, deleting that; but the information wasn’t connected to the central storage, just being a copy of the original information, and to delete it now would be useless.

He didn’t know how he would explain the younger man’s return to Coruscant so quickly, and then decided he simply wouldn’t explain at all. Who would question an Inquisitor about their business? The occupation alone provided a great deal of protection from prying eyes, and at any rate, Eurynome hardly intended to let him go _back._

Especially now. This close to Coruscant, he could tell exactly what his panther was calling, and why, and why it was so _quiet._

He pulled his hood up before he disembarked, and let the whole of his features be swallowed into the shadows.

Like most of the planet, the building was cut sharp and sterile, and was, as far as Rama Eurynome was concerned, _absolute garbage._ The walls were thick but plain white, durable whilst being entirely unattractive, and the floor was likewise, but undoubtedly twice as covered in street grime and murder on janitors-- and he wasn’t actually thinking about the janitorial staff, exactly, except for how much blood he was going to leave on the walls for them to clean, how long it would linger in the thin seam between the squares, how much of it would be _massassi_ and how much would be _kissai._ _Grotthu_ were _unimportant_ , here, for the moment, and so he would let them live unless they stood between him and his desires.

No one did. For all that he stalked down the halls exuding malevolence and potential mayhem, _massassi_ troops gave him a wide berth when he passed them, and cleaning _grotthu_ did not look up from their occupations, nor did _zuguruk,_ hard at work doing things that Eurynome could not spare thoughts for. For the moment he drowned in the endless shadows of the Force, and he let it sweep through him and carry him in its currents to where he wanted to be.

He could have followed it right to his daughter. 

But he didn’t.

He let it carry him to the _kissai_ office instead, the one for _kissaiwotok_ , and there behind the desk he settled himself in the chair amongst the consoles and datapads and holocrons of information, and _Jen’ari Rama Eurynome_ made himself at home.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Massassi_ \- Sith language, warrior caste.  
>  _Kissai_ \- Sith language, priest caste.  
>  _Grotthu_ \- Sith language, slave caste.  
>  _Zuguruk_ \- Sith language, engineering caste.
> 
>  _Kissaiwotok_ \- The Sith language doesn't have a whole lot of words for us to pull from, so I crafted this one. Priest + one (number) + placement in order; Priest + "the first" = "The First/High Priest."
> 
>  _Jen'ari_ \- Sith language, "Dark Lord (of the Sith)"


End file.
